The New Recruit
by AJ Manderz
Summary: He watched her throw her fists at the punching bag. Left, right, left, right. Her whole body was into it, her waist and her hips twisted with the movement. She was beautiful, he thought, and she didn't even have to try. Beautiful and dangerous.
1. Nikita

_This story is mostly in Michael's POV. Takes place several weeks after Nikita's first mission._

_Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, but I wish I did! :)_

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**1. Nikita**

He watched her throw her fists at the punching bag. Left, right, left, right. Her whole body was into it, her waist and her hips twisted with the movement, her silky black hair flew out behind her head.

"_Nikita!" _he said and then he smiled. Her name was like a song on his lips.

She stopped moving and looked up at him as he descended the stairs to the training mats. Her face was blank as she looked up at him. She didn't say anything, just stared at him with those big, dark eyes. Not for the first time, he wished he knew what she was thinking. He walked over to her.

"Amanda wants to see you."

"What is it?" she said.

"Your second mission. I'll debrief you in my office in 30 minutes."

Her eyes got that sparkle. "What is it this time, Michael? A secret service agent?"

Michael tried his best not to smile. "This time you won't ask so many questions."

"We'll see about that."

He watched her walk away from him. He could see the sweat through the back of her gray tank top. Her hair was pulled back, but there were strands around her face that stuck to the sweat on her forehead. She was beautiful, he thought, and she didn't even have to try. Beautiful and dangerous.

* * *

She walked into Michael's office wearing black heels and a vivid green strapless, cocktail dress that ended mid-thigh. Her hair was pulled up off the back of her neck and twisted into an elegant knot at the back of her head. Her ears sparkled with large silver earrings that teased the tanned skin of her neck.

Birkhoff paused in his typing at Michael's keyboard as he noticed her entrance.

"I look like a whore," she said as pulled at the bottom of the dress that was creeping up her thigh.

Birkhoff cleared his throat and nearly knocked his red bull all over the computer keyboard with his elbow. He righted it, cautiously.

"An expensive whore," he grumbled under his breath. Michael gave him a look and then walked over to Nikita and pulled her into his office.

"You clean up well," he said, trying his best not to smile. "Birkhoff, this is Nikita, one of our newest. Nikita, Birkhoff."

She walked around the desk to where Birkhoff remained seated and shook his hand, firmly. Birkhoff winced. "Nice to meet you," she said.

"Nikita," He said and then smiled and snorted. He shook his head as he turned back to his keyboard. "Figures. I wondered why Michael praised you so highly." He ignored Michael's glare.

Nikita peered over his shoulder. She couldn't really make out what he was doing. The screen was black, except for the green letters and symbols that crawled across the screen. Some kind of code. "Why are you in Michael's office? Looking up porn?"

Michael's laugh turned into a cough. "He's here because he's hiding from Percy."

"Are you in trouble?" asked Nikita.

Birkhoff looked uncomfortable.

"Nothing like that," Michael said for him. "His sister's in town. And he's too afraid to admit that he wasn't here earlier to help out."

"I worked it all out. He won't notice. Why is she here? You didn't debrief her with Amanda?"

"Amanda already debriefed her earlier."

Nikita looked up at Michael. Her eyebrows rose. "What's the mission this time? I'm some kind of hooker?"

Birkhoff laughed.

"You'll be my escort for tonight and added security," said Michael. "There is a gala tonight at the Whitehouse. Percy and I have been invited."

"There's no target?"

"Not at the moment."

"Why me?"

"Percy was pleased with how you completed your first assignment."

Michael thought she might have looked a little sick.

"When do you want to leave?"

"In a few minutes." He pulled out a chair on the opposite side of the desk, which was opposite of Birkhoff.

"Sit. I'll go and get my jacket." He walked out of the office and down the hall.

Birkhoff's eyes followed Michael as he left the room. "He likes you," he said. His eyes drifted back to the computer screen. "I think I'm jealous."

* * *

At the gala, Percy spent most of his time in the corner of the room arguing with the senator of New York.

Nikita felt like a magnet being pulled around the room against her will, glued to Michael's arm, when everything in her really wanted to shoot the opposite way. Away from the stuffiness, away from the people that crowded around her at every turn, because she was beautiful. Because she was charismatic, because with each other, Michael was somehow able to throw off some of the tension that had somehow become a part of who he was. He was almost enjoyable. Well, almost.

"You served in the Gulf?" said a stuffy, old man who was sweating at the neck and who appeared to have spilled cocktail sauce on his gray tie.

"Briefly," said Michael. He pulled Nikita by the elbow and away from the man, towards the large dance floor at the front of the room.

"We should talk sometime," grunted the man.

"Or course," said Michael as be brushed by him.

"Michael-don't be rude-"

"Let's dance," he said in Nikita's ear. Talking about his past always made him uncomfortable.

She smiled because she knew he didn't normally like to show his emotions. It seemed to make him more anxious than the reason behind them. "What? You don't want to trade war stories?"

"Nikita, just be quiet. No more questions."

"Who wants a quiet date? Quiet dates are boring dates."

He sighed. He placed his hand at her waist and pulled her hand into his own and led her around the dance floor. She was tall, he thought and he liked that he didn't have to look down at her to speak. But her waist was so slender, so slim and straight that he could only imagine how soft her skin was there. He swallowed. Could she hear his heart pound?

The music swelled around them as they waltzed around the room. In the corner, across the room, Percy faulted in his speech to the Senator and his eyes narrowed as he took in Michael and Nikita drawn together in their close embrace.

"I always did like a jolly waltz," said the tall, gray haired man in front of him. His eye's followed Percy's. His blue eyes sparkled as he drained the drink in his hand. He snapped his fingers at a passing waiter. "More sherry, please. Who is she Percy? His girlfriend?"

"An escort for the evening. No one of consequence."

The senator smirked. "So it appears."

Percy grimaced.

* * *

"I thought Amanda was crazy when she had me dance with Bernardo at one of her sessions last week," said Nikita as they tangoed.

"Bernardo?"

"He's new. Been here less than a week. He said you had a nice smile. I think he likes you."

Michael grunted. "He'll wash out, probably."

"I have faith in him," said Nikita and smiled a dazzling smile. Michael thought it was amazing that he didn't trip over his own feet.

"Nikita," he said, and then paused. He was suddenly conscious of her hand in his. In the warmth of her waist, in her wide dark eyes, that were very close to his own.

"What?"

"Don't get so attached," he said quietly. "It'll be easier that way. It's better to stay distant."

She smiled that warm smile again. He was beginning to think that it was a smile that was just for him, vivacious, yet almost shy. He inhaled as she pressed closer to him. He could feel her chest against his own. "Like you are, with me?" she whispered into his ear.

He did falter in his steps then and he pulled out of her embrace, but kept her hand and pulled her briskly across the room. She didn't see the two men in the suits and dark glasses who were watching them from the edge of the dance floor.

"Michael!"

The large kitchen was empty when he pulled her inside. There were trays of food on the island in the center and dirty pots and pans littered across the two large stoves. He pushed her roughly against a cupboard, its door rattled against her back.

"Michael, what are you-"

He kissed her before she could finish what she was saying. Pushed his body so close to hers that he could feel her heartbeat as he tangled his fingers in her hair. At first she fought him, too surprised at what was happening, but then she grasped him around the neck with both arms and deepened the kiss and held on like her life depended on it as his lips roughly capture hers, again and again.

"Michael," she gasped as he ran his hands down her waist to the curve of her hip. She wanted him. Oh, she wanted him.

He pulled away as two men dressed in identical suits and sunglasses entered the room. The kitchen's white doors swung shut behind them. They had ear buds in their ears. Speaking of secret service agents…

"This room is off limits for quests," said one of the agents. He had blond hair.

The other one with brown hair stepped forward and reached slowly into the jacket of his suit. "We'll escort you out."

Nikita watched as Michael shifted his body so he was in front of her, his back to her. He reached around and pulled her hand so she was close against his body. "My date and I were just havin some funn," he slurred, pretending to be drunk. "No harm done," he said. He shifted his body and put his arm around her waist and while he was pretending to get his balance he was reaching into her green, sequined purse that dangled off her arm.

Catching on, Nikita reached a hand across his chest and pulled him closer as he wrapped his arm around her waist. "Isn't my husband soo handsome?" she grinned and then giggled. Her hand was reaching into his jacket for his gun.

They were both armed and shooting when the secret service agents drew out their own weapons.

Nikita dodged behind the island as Michael bashed one of them in the head with an open cupboard door, but before the second one could shoot him, Nikita was up and had shot the second secret service agent in the chest.

She stood horrified at the two bloodied agents sprawled across the floor at their feet, both very dead. "What have you done?"

He grabbed her by the elbow. "We have to get to Percy, now!"

"But the agents…"

"They didn't work for the president."

"What?"

Percy was just outside the door of the kitchen and together they walked quickly out a side door and into the brisk, evening night air of November.

"The assassins?" asked Percy.

"Dead. Nikita shot one of them," said Michael and he shot her an appreciative look.

"Good. Good," said Percy. "Lucky that Michael could have such a charming escort this evening."

Nikita's expression was conveniently blank, but inside she felt sick.

* * *

When they were in the limo, she couldn't keep quiet.

"Who were those men? Assassins? They don't work for division?"

Percy sat in the front next to the agent who was driving. He glanced back at Michael with a knowing look, but he didn't say anything.

Michael sighed. He leaned close and said quietly so Percy and the other agent in the front couldn't hear. "Those men were sent to kill me and Percy. They saw me dancing with you. And no, I can't tell you who they work for."

"Why? You knew they'd be here tonight, didn't you? Was I bait? Why do they want to kill you?"

"We kill a lot of people, Nikita. People get angry."

The car was silent as they pulled onto the beltway. Percy glanced back at them but he didn't say anything.

When he was looking out his window, she leaned in close again. Michael could feel her breath on his cheek. "Why did you kiss me? Was that part of the charade too?"

"It was a diversion."

"Oh? It didn't feel just like that."

He breathed deeply as he felt her hand snake across his chest. He grabbed her arm with his hand, but kept it there, close to his heart. "No. Don't."

He felt his heart pounding. Was sure she could feel it too. And for all that he had been through he felt that his life had been waiting for this moment, when someone, a girl, would take all those life or death moments and liquefy that anxiety, his anxiety into pure, raw emotion. And he felt like wrapping his arms around her until he could feel her bones, until he could feel her heart and her breath against his cheek, beating as one, could smell her, could taste her, could bury himself there. He pushed her roughly away from him.

"It's better to not get attached," he repeated. "It's better that way."

"Is it?" she asked him. "Do you feel better, Michael?"

Her dark eyes were wide, so wide, her lips red, that waiting and knowing smile there just for him.

He grunted. "Next time, I'll call a service."


	2. Dark and Sweet

**2. Dark and Sweet**

For her third mission, Nikita was alone. Michael sat in the front seat of an SUV parked across the street of a large hotel.

"Are you in the lobby?" he said in Nikita's ear.

"Yes."

"Place the package on the counter."

"That's it?" she said.

"Yes."

"Who's the target?"

"You have three minutes."

They drove away as the building exploded; a desk chair on fire rolled out into the street and hit a passing car, which burst into flames. A man scrambled out his car window, his arms on fire.

Nikita wasn't entirely as emotionless as she wanted to be.

"There was a Russian agency on retreat there. They deal with money laundering, slave trade, drug trafficking, mafia," said Michael. He was trying to sooth her closed-off expression, and all the inner turmoil he was pretty sure was underneath. "We got the order from the director of the CIA himself. It was a job well done."

"There was a little girl in the lobby."

A muscle in Michael's face twitched and his foot fell harder on the gas pedal and the car lurched up the highway. He grabbed his cell phone from his pocket and speed-dialed Birkhoff. "You told me the way was clear."

"It was. I got the green-light from Percy," said Birkhoff, on the other end back at Division. He was sitting in his rolling chair in front of his computer, like always. "What's the problem? Mission a success?"

Michael glanced at Nikita. "Yes. Listen, Birkhoff, we're going to get something to eat before we catch the plane. Nikita doesn't feel well. Will you make sure everything's okay when we get back?"

"Well, I-"

"That's great." Michael hung up the phone.

"My stomach's fine," said Nikita. "Why are we eating? Who eats after they kill someone?"

"A cannibal?" He saw her mouth twitch, slightly. Good.

"It's fine, Michael. Let's just go to the airport. You don't have to cover for me. I'm an agent now, right?"

"Yes…"

"Then you're no longer my boss."

He stared at her, and his eyebrows rose, again. His mouth twitched. "I'm not?"

"No. And I want to go back."

"You do?"

"Yes."

He looked thoughtful. "You're not the one driving."

* * *

Nikita drowned her french-fry in ketchup. "When you said dinner…I don't know…I guess I pictured something a little more sophisticated."

Michael snorted. "We're on a budget."

She slurped her soda. "Division making cutbacks?"

"I meant my personal budget…I lost my wallet." He made a face. He looked annoyed.

Nikita laughed. "Does it matter? There's nothing important in it is there? No pictures…nothing real anyway."

"Why do you think that?"

"Nothing's real about this life. Even you didn't choose it, Michael."

"You don't know that."

Nikita stared at him as he took a bite of his hamburger. "I know enough," she said.

Michael swallowed his mouthful of food and then shrugged one shoulder, like it didn't matter. "Eat your fries."

But what she said unnerved him. It was very close to the truth. He didn't choose this life…no more than it had chosen him. With a hitch in his chest, he saw Elizabeth, their little girl, his family. And it was all his fault. _His_ fault…

"Michael, you alright?" her voice called to him from places unknown. Dark. Uncomfortable.

He cleared his throat and gathered his crumpled hamburger wrapper and dirty napkins onto his tray. "Yeah, you ready?"

* * *

She was different than other recruits, he thought when they were back at Division and he stood over Birkhoff's shoulder as Birkhoff rambled on about Shadow Net and finding a new recruit for Percy.

"How's our Niki doing?" Birkhoff grinned at him over his shoulder.

Michael shifted in his stance and crossed his arms. "Nikita's fine."

"Where'd she go? I thought she'd be with you."

"She went to bed. Why did you want me here?"

"I'm supposed to give you the specs on our new recruit." He showed Michael a video of a convenience store somewhere in South Dakota. The security camera showed them a choppy black and white video of a Caucasian girl with a pony tail taking out two customers with her fists all before she pulled a gun on the sale's clerk. She did it in less than five minutes.

"Another Nikita, eh?" said Birkhoff.

Michael snorted. "She's just another thief. Where is she now?"

"State Penitentiary. Word on the street is that after this little heist, she went off and shot a store clerk in the jewelry store across the road. Said it was something about the way he looked at her." Birkhoff had himself a chuckle.

"When's my flight?" said Michael.

"Tomorrow morning. Thought you'd want some sleep."

"Right. Thanks."

Birkhoff watched his friend walk away from him. "You're welcome," he grumbled.

He shook his head and went back to his game of monopoly. Determined, once again, that the computer would not win this time.

* * *

The months passed by in a similar fashion. Nikita and Michael would go on missions, sometimes separately, sometimes together, but when they did they would call Birkhoff and let him know that there was a situation of some kind. A_ny lame excuse_, Birkhoff thought that would prolong their time together. He thought that they might have been sleeping with each other but he wasn't sure. Michael told him one night with pride, how Nikita broke his distance shoot record and he hadn't looked jealous, only impressed.

Birkhoff knew that Amanda thought Michael was in love with Nikita. He knew nothing good would come of their relationship when Percy started to visit him more and more. Without Michael, it was like the man was bored or something.

* * *

About four months after Nikita's third mission, Nikita and Michael walked through a park together in the Adirondacks, one fall afternoon. A squirrel scurried up the trunk of a large maple tree. The air was cool and the park felt abandoned. It was mid-day and everyone was still at work.

They walked side-by-side up a path sandwiched between two large trees. Leaves crunched underfoot as they weaved their way on the trail through the different kinds of trees, pine and oak and ash. It was peaceful and neither of them cared as they laughed and made jokes about getting lost. They had just finished a sweep at a local hotel.

At the top of a small leaf covered swell, in the middle of the woods, Michael grabbed Nikita's hand in his own. Startled, she pulled them both to a stop. But she didn't release her hand from his. Her fingers were cold.

"What are you doing?" she said with a queer smile as he clutched her hand in both of his own and blew on them.

"You're fingers are cold."

"Yeah, I don't have gloves…"

He kissed the tips of her fingers and then rubbed them against the scruff on his chin. He hadn't shaved that morning. "Michael," she laughed and he smiled. He loved the way her eyes sparkled.

Her hair was up, drawn back in a large black clip at the back of her head, done by Amanda. But it was a lot more casual than he had seen it before. She wore jeans and white tennis shoes and a navy jacket that said FedEx on her right shoulder, the left had a picture of the United States flag and said US MAIL CARRIER. She had been delivering packages again.

She looked so young, he thought. He couldn't help himself as he took the hair clip out of her hair and let it tumble down her shoulders.

"Michael!" She lunged for it as he tucked it in his coat pocket. He laughed as he caught her arms and folded them around her back. "Do you want it back?"

"What do you think?" She grinned and kicked him in the shin and with a groan he weakened his hold on her. She grabbed his arm and flipped him over her shoulder. He kicked her legs out from under her and she fell on top of him.

Her mouth was very close to his. "I think you beat me."

His voice was a warm rumble. "I'd say it was a tie."

Her hair had fallen over her shoulder, tickled the skin on his neck. He couldn't help himself from touching it, running his fingers through its silkiness.

"What are you doing?"

He needed to feel something real. Needed to feel her warmth against his neck, needed her hands on his chest, so he could tell that she was real too.

He kissed her softly and slowly and her hands clutched his coat as she pressed closer and melted into the hard line of his body.

He tangled his fingers in her hair and he felt her smile against his lips. He pulled away slightly, smiling too. He had never kissed her that way before.

"Isn't it against some federal law taking advantage of a mail woman?" she said, her lips close to his.

He chuckled and pulled her close against him and kissed her full on the mouth as he pushed her jacket off her shoulders.

She tore at his shirt and lifted it above his head, desperate to have his skin against her skin, to hear his heart beat against hers. His hand ran spirals against her lower back. He turned her over and pressed her into the ground against his jacket and kissed her hard on the mouth.

The air blew cool against their warm skin, but the goose bumps that prickled her skin wasn't from the cold. The leaves crinkled loudly around them as they moved together, adding their own music, each one gaining, each one relinquishing control.

* * *

Something in the back of Michael's mind registered that the ground was cold and damp, that there was something- he hoped it was a rock or a root poking into his back underneath his jacket and that technically they should be back at Division by now…

But he felt too content.

"We have to get back," his voice rumbled very close to Nikita's head, a warm, smoky timber.

"Mmm…" Nikita said into his chest.

Neither of them moved. Her body felt long and languorous. She shivered as her sweat dried on her skin. He pulled her jacket more tightly around them both. They put their clothes back on but still she felt too warm, felt too…everything.

She stood next to him. "Birkhoff could get into trouble."

"Oh, I don't know…he seems to like you…Niki."

He grunted as she hit him in the chest. "_Ow."_

"Don't call me, Niki," she said and she tried very hard not to smile.

He laughed a warm, husky laugh and the wind took it up and whisked it above them; to the rest of the park, to the autumn leaves that clattered to the ground around them, to the sun that was just trying to peak its way through the dense, cloud covered sky.

* * *

_AN: Ahh, You're Welcome. ;) Happy Reading Everyone!_


	3. Love: Act I, II & III

**3. Love: Act I, II & III**

Percy and Amanda stood at the window in Operations and looked down at the recruits spread out below them. Michael was standing against the wall with the other recruits as everyone watched Nikita and a young woman spar together in the center of the room.

"I think Michael is in love with Nikita," said Amanda and Percy gave her a cursory look as he raised his eyebrows.

"That's quite a jump."

"You know that they're just more than friends. Look at the way he looks at her. His body tilts towards her, his arms are loose, relaxing by his sides. Look how he tenses and shifts his body when Dana gets in a hit. He worries about Nikita."

Percy folded his arms across his chest, his eyes focused on the man below them. "What are we going to do about that?"

"He's definitely sleeping with her," said Amanda. "With all the prolonged missions…the absences…"

"Birkhoff _has_ been speaking a little bit too much lately," said Percy.

"He's covering for them. Want me to take him in for questioning?"

"No, no. Not…yet. I'll talk to Michael myself."

"If he won't listen?"

"Then we'll cancel them both."

* * *

They were on a mission together. Hidden behind some hedges, Nikita's eyes pressed close to the scope of her sniper rifle.

"What's wrong," she muttered. "You're quiet."

"Now's not really the time for small talk, Nikita," said Michael.

She shifted on the ground, where she lay on her belly in the green grass, stretched out next to Michael. "Normally you won't shut up."

He didn't say anything and she looked over at him. "Well?"

"Eyes on the scope. Never look away from your target," he grunted. "You know better than that."

Her eyes focused back on the old man in the lounge chair in the center of a small, white patio. He sipped idly on an iced tea. He had white hair, a wrinkled face, and a protruding belly.

They watched in silence as the old man got up and shuffled towards the large mansion several feet in front of him.

"Damn it. He's moving."

"And you couldn't make the shot in time?" said Michael.

"Are you sure we need to shoot him? We could just scare him enough and he'd probably die of natural causes." Nikita's finger tensed against the trigger. A door opened in front of the man and a long legged, blond in a red bikini stepped into the sunlight. Nikita's gun lowered. "Never mind."

"It's probably better if we don't ask questions," said Michael with a half concealed laugh.

She grunted and slumped further into the green grass. The ground was cold and damp where they had stationed themselves behind a hedge in the old man's large garden about three-hundred feet away.

"You know why he's a target?"

He glanced at her and then returned to his own scope. He wasn't supposed to tell her. "He's a former CIA agent now gone double. The government believes he's been talking to the Russians."

"Gogal?"

"Possibly."

"I should have shot him when he was alone. Now we have witnesses."

"Shoot the girlfriend too. Shouldn't be too hard of a task for you."

"Just because she looks like a bimbo, doesn't mean she is one." She tensed her finger on the trigger and then the gun lowered. "What did you and Percy talk about last night?"

"Nothing."

"He's checking up on you isn't he? Making sure that there's nothing going on between us?"

He snorted. "Is there?"

He'd told her a few weeks ago that nothing had happened between them. That nothing could ever happen between them. It was a fling…he had said. He wasn't in love with her…

"You tell me." Nikita turned back to the scope of her rifle. Two seconds passed and she squeezed the trigger and shot the old man in the chest. The woman didn't even get a chance to scream before Nikita shot her too. The man lay slumped in his lounge chair as blood ran down his arm, next to the veins that no longer pulsed underneath his pale, wrinkly skin. The blond had fallen flat on her back, a pool of red mixed with the halo of yellow hair fanned against the white patio.

Nikita stood up and looked down at him. "It was just a fling, right?" He watched as she shouldered her gun and began walking back the direction they had come, through the woods on the edge of the property. Someone could have seen her, but she didn't seem to care.

He watched her saunter into the trees without him, her rifle slung over her shoulder. She wore a black jacket, black pants and boots. The wind caught her hair and it flew out behind her. The wind sounded loud as it whipped around his ears. Beautiful and dangerous was right.

* * *

He watched, a month later as a black SUV let her out on the sidewalk in the middle of DC and she walked a block to her small, fourth floor apartment. She wore dark heels and a navy blue dress suit.

He parked on a side street and followed behind her. He knew that she knew she was being followed. But he still waited a good ten minutes after she had disappeared into her building before he walked the four stories up and rang her doorbell.

She opened the door. "Come in, Michael. What a surprise."

"Something to drink?" she asked him as he stepped through the door.

"Scotch." His eyes came to rest on the photographs she had framed on her desk in the small living room. He picked one up. It was a picture of him and Nikita at a wedding they went to last month. They were dancing. Her head was against his. He remembered with a queer pang in his gut that the target had been the bride's mother.

"This one's new," he said as he held the picture out in front of him. "You understand that this goes against company policy. Inter-office dating…technically it's not allowed."

"You have the nerd to thank for that one."

"Blackmail for Percy?

She shrugged and then she stepped close. He inhaled as she traced her hand down the gray tie he wore over his white dress shirt. "I don't know. I think he just liked your tie."

Then just as suddenly, she stepped away from him. "What are you doing here, Michael?"

She went into the kitchen to get his scotch. She came back and handed his drink to him. "I take it Percy didn't ask you to check up on me?"

"Perhaps he did."

"He wouldn't have told you where my new apartment was."

His mouth quirked. "No. I asked Birkhoff."

"How is he?"

"Just fine. He's happy with his new video game design software."

She poured a drink for herself. "That must have been quite expensive."

"It was. State of the art."

She took a sip of her drink. "Amanda will find out somehow. She always does."

"Not unless Birkhoff tells her."

"He's not a very hard code to crack."

He smirked. "No."

His eyes took in her small apartment, the dust on her desk, the magazines strewn across the coffee table as he watched her walk around and straighten things. It was then he noticed the stale air of the apartment. Her face was pale. "How are you?"

"I'm rarely here, if that's what you mean."

He took a drink from his glass and then set it down on her desk. "Birkhoff said it was a close one last time."

"I'm fine." She turned away from him and straightened the magazines on the coffee table. "A lucky shot."

Michael stepped close to her and closed his fingers around her upper arm. She winced and tried to twist her arm away.

"Michael you're hurting me," she gasped.

He released her upper arm, but grabbed her wrist as he pushed her sleeve up to her shoulder. "Lucky shot is right." The bandage on her forearm was stained with blood. "You need to change this, or it'll get infected."

She pushed him away. "It's fine. I've already been to medical. I know how to take care of myself."

He grunted. "Of course."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He pushed her firmly onto the couch. "Sit."

She stood up. "I'm fine, Michael. You don't have to baby me."

"Somebody should," he muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing." He walked into her bathroom and grabbed some painkillers from the medicine cabinet. He shook two ovals pills into his palm. "Here."

"I'm fine."

"Take them." He got her a glass of water from her small kitchen and handed it to her. "You're gritting your teeth."

"I am not." But she sat down and swallowed the pills without fuss. He handed her a package of crackers. She set it on the coffee table unopened.

"Where's your first aid?"

"Above the sink, in the bathroom."

He retrieved it and sat next to her on the couch.

"Just like old times, huh?" she said as he cleaned out the wound and pressed a thick pad of gauze against the damaged muscle and wrapped some medical tape around it.

"The medic should have stitched this up for you," said Michael.

"I told you, I'm fine." She pulled her arm out of his grasp as she stood up.

"There's still a lot for you to learn," he grunted as he stood up.

"Like what?"

"Don't antagonize the one holding the bandage?"

She tried very hard to hide her smile as she turned around and faced him. "Try again."

His eyes found hers and his face was serious. "Never fall in love with the man who's teaching you."

She didn't even blink. "I'm not in love with Percy."

His mouth quirked. "That's not what I'm talking about."

He watched her stoic expression falter. It was like watching the foundation of a stone building crumble to debris at his very feet. "What are you talking about?"

"Do you remember when I left for South Dakota several months ago?"

"No."

"I had to look at another recruit. Dana. You told me before I left to be careful of young drug addicts because they could be dangerous."

He thought she looked frightened. Nikita. Frightened.

His fingers found a strand of stray hair next to her jaw, which had slipped out of her bun. He was surprised at the tears he saw in her eyes. He pulled his hand away. "Well, they are."

"What are you talking about? Michael…" Her eyes were growing heavy. Suddenly her head spun. "What did you give me…"

He helped her sit down on the sofa before she could collapse onto the floor. She slumped over onto her good arm with a groan.

"I thought you could use the rest."

"You drugged me," she mumbled.

"I gave you painkillers. You were in pain."

"I should shoot you," she said, almost unintelligibly.

His smile was sad as he watched her eyes flutter closed.

* * *

She woke up, hours later with the scattered remembrance of a dream in her head. The apartment was dark. She pushed off the blanket from around her legs. Michael must have draped it across her. If he hadn't, she would think that all that went on between them was just a dream. Her high heels were on the floor next to her bare feet as she pressed her toes into the soft carpet. If it wasn't a dream, then where was he?

_This was how their love was…_she wrote in her notebook as she sat on her bed minutes later as she tried to remember the dream in her head.

_It was need. It was desire. For one impetuous act they could learn to forget themselves, forget the world...  
_

She shut her notebook suddenly and then crammed it underneath the mattress of her bed. What garbage. She'd tear up the pages later. She pressed her head into the wide pillow and tried to crush down her sudden anxiety. She could feel the tears on her face. She couldn't help it, when she shut her eyes, she could smell his scent. In her dreams, he was still there.

* * *

_She walked into the kitchen to get a drink of water. She passed her bedroom and her door was open. Michael lay there stretched out on his back, fast asleep. _

_At the creek of the cupboard door, she could hear him stirring._

"_Feel better?" she heard his voice from her bedroom, a smoky, sleepy rumble._

_She smiled to herself. She walked into the bedroom and handed him a glass of wine. She clutched the stem of her own wine glass. She set it on the stand next to her bed._

_ "Yes, much, much better," she said as she sat on her knees in front of him and ran her hands down his chest. Her pants and jacket had turned into a dark silky nightgown, the color of the wine they sipped on. _

_ "What about your arm?" he said. He reached for her upper arm, but the bandage was gone, only bare, smooth, coppery skin. "A fast recovery," he remarked with a shaky laugh, because she was pulling his shirt out of his pants. _

_ "I talked to Percy," he purred in her ear as she ran kisses down his bare chest, his stomach, the tender skin on his neck._

_ "What did he say?"_

_ "He doesn't care if we're together anymore. In fact, he told me that we work better that way."_

_ Her eyebrows rose. "Oh?"_

_ "Birkhoff wants to know when the wedding is."_

_ He grunted and laughed when she hit him in the chest. "I didn't hear a proposal," she said._

_His eyes were warm. "I didn't think we were ready for that yet." _

_ He pushed her gently down on the bed. She gasped as he kissed the skin on her collar bone, ran his hands over her breasts, to rest at her slim waist. _

_His kiss was long and deep and he traced the skin next to her eye with the tips of his fingers. Her tears made his hands wet. He was surprised that she was crying._ "_What's wrong?" _

_

* * *

_

Nikita woke with a start to the harsh ringing of the telephone. She gasped as she slapped angrily at the tears on her cheeks. The clock beside her bed told her it was 2:30. Her stomach ached. She had yet to eat something.

Her hand felt blindly in the dark for the telephone. "Hello?"

"Niki…Time to return back to the world of the living," said Birkhoff.

She sat up. "What?"

"Percy wants you to come in. He's got another assignment for you."

"Why didn't Michael call me?"

"This one's personal." The line went dead.

She stared at the white receiver in her hand before slamming it back onto its base. For some reason, she couldn't get the tears to stop. Was everything just a dream?

She flicked on her lamp and there was a sticky note on the alarm clock next to her bed. She recognized Michael's small, block lettering.

"_OTHELLO: I, i, 42," _it read. Shakespeare.

She didn't even have to look it up. She knew what it meant.

"_I follow him to serve my turn upon him_._"_

_

* * *

_

_AN: Thanks for reading! We probably have Inception to thank for the dream sequences here, lol... but dreams really are fun to write. Hope everyone had a nice holiday!_

_~AJM  
_


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